Point Proven
by Hystericfangirl137
Summary: This was not going to be a good day; Maka knew this from the second she woke up.


_**Story Title:**__Point Proven_

_**Summary:**__This was not going to be a good day; Maka knew this from the second she woke up._

_**Rating: **__T for mild language.  
__**Word Count:**__ 957_

_**Main Character:**__Maka_

This was not going to be a good day; Maka knew this from the second she woke up – no, the minute she could process the word "ominous". And certain points throughout the day just made it worse.

~ 12:07 PM * Maka's Room * Painful point 1 ~

The pale blond grumbled something indecipherable as she opened her eyes to a giant flaming ball of bright (ungodly irritating) colors known as the sun. Apparently, she had forgotten to set her alarm clock last night and slept in on this wonderful (hmm…) Saturday morning… afternoon. She rolled off her side and felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder blade.

Maka did not yell. In all her time of being a meister and being thrown in to brick walls, slammed in to concrete sidewalks, and pummeled in to the ground, she learned that simple pains (like a loose spring jabbing in to her shoulder blade) are not bad as they could be – but it did not make it any less painful. Letting out a groan, she sat up and started to massage the sore.

~ 1:56 PM * The park * Sabotaged point 2 ~

The pain in Maka's upper left back had dulled to a soft throbbing as an hour and a half had passed. Now it was replaced by a new worry: her face was drenched in sweat. Who knows why she needed to go out. To the park. Under a cackling sun that mocked her with all it's sadistic, burning glory.

She let out a deep sigh and wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her gloved hand. It didn't help that she went with her usual outfit: a blouse, a sweater vest, and a plaid skirt – thank the Lord she went without her would-be agonizing _black_ trench coat.

Her green eyes scanned the park for something that would relieve her of this forsaken heat. A water fountain was caught in her sight, which immediately lightened her mood. She walked over to the idle object and pressed the button which activated the system in the thing.

A system that apparently enjoyed soaking people's shirts.

_The damn thing was sabotaged. Dammit, dammit, dammit…_

~ 5:15 PM * Outside Soul and Maka's Apartment * Depressing point 3 ~

Maka had spent the majority of the day wallowing in a deep emotion of, for lack of a more suiting word, crap. Her day was _crappy_. And it made her want to pull out her hair in frustration.

After fifteen minutes of annoyed park-walk-y-ness, her stomach demanded food. And it demanded it be food from the _mall_. A stuffy, barely air-conditioned, hellhole of a gathering place full of barbaric teenagers on a _Saturday afternoon_. (Put two and two together, hm?).

After a migraine of a thousand different ring tones and cracks and pops of various bubblegums, Maka had found her way to the food court. Before entering a space for a McDonald's, she had checked to make sure she had her wallet in her trench coat. The very trench coat in which she had left at home. No trench coat, no pockets, no wallet, no _mall food_. She had silently banged her head against the wall and left the accursed building.

As she had made her way back to her shared apartment, it rained. It rained hard; it also woke up and throttled her shoulder blade.

She had several puddles trip her up on to hard, unforgiving concrete; at least two speeding cars dived in to mud puddles, which subsequently splashed on to her – already dying – mood.

When she had finally gotten through the torrential downpour and to her apartment building, she – almost giddily – went up the elevator with a long, hot shower in mind.

That was not going to happen. She had laid her head on to the welcoming wooden door, creating a soft thud, when she heard hurried voices and rushed feet. There were people in there. That was not a good sign when you were out all day, and your partner was doing God-knows-what. When her shaking hand reached the doorknob, she heard a click. A devastating, forsakening, _depressing, _click.

The click that meant that her door. Had been. Locked. And she had forgotten her keys on the coffee table – the one inside her apartment that was now being ransacked by a bunch of idiotic hooligans.

~ 5:20 PM (Present time) * Point Proven ~

It took Maka a whole of four – just four – minutes to pick the "whore of a lock" with one of her hairpins (thank Shinigami she went with a different hairstyle today), and another to simply filter all the colorful and vibrant profanity swirling on her tongue.

Her hand grabbed the doorknob so tight her knuckles turned white. She twisted the doorknob, _threw_the door nearly off it's hinges and yelled ear-breakingly loud:

"WHO THE _HELL_ DO YOU THINK _YOU_ ARE, COMING IN TO _MY_ APARTMENT AND LOCKING –" before the red-faced girl could continue her rant, and equally loud collaboration of voice_s_ pierced her eardrums.

"_HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAKA!!!_"

A few emotions started to fizzle her brain cells; confusion, anger, glee, and a bit of "chick flick" emotions were a few.

She didn't know why, at all, she started grinning like the Joker. Or why tears were rolling down her cheeks. She had not a lick of sense when she wrapped her arms around her roommate (her arms were simply not big enough to hug all who were there) and muffled through sniffs, "I-I hate you guys…"

_A.N// ...I think I screwed up MAJORLY with tenses…_


End file.
